|Saint Joan of Arc, pray for us.|
After a battery of tests and procedures appropriate to a general physical examination to establish a person's current state of health, Doctor Omphaloskepsis (he seems to be of Greek-and-Creole descent) told me, without mincing words, "You are radiolucent."
It is a benign, congenital medical condition reported in 0.00051% of the global population. Its complications, as reflected in morbidity and mortality reports, are statistically nil. My doctor advises me that, if I do, indeed, suffer complications that impact my activities of daily living, I should increase the lead in my diet. Sometimes, the cure is worse than the disease.
As he put his X-ray spectacles back in their case, he looked at me ruefully. "This is not a disability that you cannot overcome with appropriate, professional oversight. I have some fishing line sinkers in my tackle box back home. If you put one between your cheek and gum every day for a month, the prognosis is favorable. Make an appointment next week and we can review your treatment plan. I will dispense the medicine then. The cost of a sinker is $1.56 apiece, and you will be receiving thirty of them. Remember to bring $468 in cash or money order, as well as the fee for the office visit.
My radiolucent nature has never been an impediment, so I declined to undergo the prescribed therapy. Dr. Omphaloskepsis did listen to my head with his stethoscope, and he diagnosed me with an accute case of confabulation. His recommendation for this: a good night's sleep every night. Ascelpius may be the good of medicine, but Hypnos an Morpheus swab balm when and where it is most needed.
After a night in listening to the pulse of the New Orleans' musical spirit in five venues at the end of my street, it is time to try correct my radiolucent symptoms. I need a little, doctor-prescribed shut-eye. I predict a lot of lumber will be sawed in the Odditarium tonight.
-Don't do anything Whalehead King wouldn't do!